Conflictions
by scarletcaprix
Summary: George walks in on a shocking scene, only to realize he's been lying to himself for years. George/Jerry and semi-explicit George/Kramer. Read it if you dare!
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings! You have entered this story because either you have some weird Seinfeld fetish or y** **ou think this will be hilarious! Luckily, this story will appease both of these types. This is the first and quite possibly the only chapter i will write, and i admit, it's definitely teetering between T and M rating. It's pretty spicy, so definitely don't read if you're offended by two, male 90s sitcom characters making out. Anyway, assuming anybody DOES read this, enjoy ;D. (contains JerryxGeorge and explicit GeorgexKramer ^u^)**

* * *

George stood in the familiar hallway, biting his lip and clenching his fist in a frozen knocking gesture. He turned left and right, eyes darting around in a panicky indecisiveness. Finally he lowered his fist and released a shaky sigh, moving his hands up to rub the bloodshot eyes beneath his glasses.

Never in his life had he been more sure that he had screwed himself.

And yet, he hadn't screwed himself. Not literally. Not in the context of whether he was master of his domain or not. No, in fact, in that sense he had been quite purposefully avoiding screwing himself; the reason being that unwanted thoughts would keep popping into his head, turning an otherwise familiar action into a terrifying look into his own subconscious.

The short man finally and resolutely turned and walked back in the direction he'd come from, deciding that today was not the day. Today was not the day at all. He hurried down the hallway, eyes trained on the ground, when the sound of a door opening behind him caused George to freeze.

"...George?!"

The addressed man closed his eyes in defeat, sucking on his cheeks momentarily before turning around fully and facing the object of his distress.

Jerry Seinfeld, George's best friend since high school. His wide, hazel eyes looked George up and down in disbelief, causing the shorter man to feel antsy. George had never felt so uncomfortable around his best friend—why had so much changed?

Swiftly, Jerry jogged closer to George, face contorted into a concerned and somewhat hurt expression. He held out his hands in confusion, shaking his head slightly while never looking away. George, however, could not meet his friend's eyes.

"It's been months."

The statement caused George to flinch, particularly since Jerry's voice sounded so uncharacteristically serious. His eyes snatched a quick look upward at his friends face, and then fell right back to the floor, a sickly heat rising to George's own. The short man swallowed hard, running his tongue over his teeth as he racked his brain for what to say. Luckily, Jerry found words before his friend.

"George I...did I do something? I mean, I understand if you were just trying to...'un-bond'...I know that's a tricky thing but...is that really it?" His voice was distressed but calm, and George felt slightly better as he detected a note of anguish. "Can you just tell me why you've been avoiding me? Please...?"

George inhaled deeply, tensing as he prepared to speak. Every emotion, every feeling that he'd kept pent up for months stood at the tip of his tongue, fully prepared to burst forward. This was his moment to finally tell his friend what he'd been wanting to say for months.

"Hey Jerry!"

Both men turned in surprise as Cosmo Kramer exploded from his house and slid down the hall to meet them. His wild hair stuck out in every direction and his brown eyes took on a look of happy surprise as he noticed the shorter man.

"Hey-hey! It's George! Where you been buddy!"

George froze up, an unwelcome sensation flooding his stomach. His red face mingled with green as nausea swept over him, and he gave up every notion of speaking for a speedy departure.

"I gotta go," George quickly explained, turning on heel and rushing to the stairs.

"Wait, George! George! ...oh damn it, Kramer! Why did you have to come at precisely that second?" Jerry's voice faded into the distance as George left the building. He stood outside for a few minutes, just allowing himself to calm down and breathe, and then summoned a taxi.

Oh, how today had failed.

Even with a plan in place and a full night of motivating himself, George couldn't do it. He hadn't enough courage, nor enough control.

"Where to?"

George realized with a start that he had already gotten into a cab and was sitting there silently.

"Central Park."

It wasn't his first choice, but going home was out of the question and he didn't have enough money to go somewhere that costed money. And anyway, he could definitely use a walk. Not much had happened, but his heart was beating out of control and his mind was in a whirl. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, George allowed himself to remember back to months before, back when it had all begun.

* * *

Four months before, it had just been like a normal day. It was slightly warmer than it had been the rest of the week, which George had taken as a sign. It was going to be a great day, and with that in mind, he'd headed over to Jerry's apartment.

George rubbed at his sore muscles, silently brooding over the money it had cost him to get worked on. He'd been to see a friend of Elaine's to get massaged, but was cheated out of a bunch of money when he rescheduled.

The short man cracked his knuckles and buzzed Jerry's door as he arrived at the apartment. The familiar ping followed, and he hurried up to his best friend's apartment, hoping that he could have somebody to vent to.

George glanced over at the photos that Kramer had stuck to the wall on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, grinning at the ridiculous face that Jerry was making. He hopped onto the elevator, rolling his head back to try and crack his neck as he ascended.

Making his way to the end of the hall where his friend's apartment was, George stewed over how he would announce his current life problem. He allowed his mind to dwell on it, and as he reached the door, he prepared to enter with an immediate complaint. But as soon as he opened the door, George forgot every word that he was about to say.

Right there, the second that the balding man opened the door, George saw his best friend being kissed by his neighbor, Kramer.

Frozen in place, Jerry turned and gave the shorter man a look of shock. George's heart thwacked against his ribs, and he heard blood rushing behind his ears. And so, unsure of how to react or how he felt, George bit his lip and backed away from the door, closing it as he went.

Inside the apartment, muffled by the wall, the short man heard a lighthearted Jerry exclaiming something to Kramer. George slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, eyes wide and mind blank.

What was going on with him?

It was obvious that what he'd just witnessed had been a playful, meaningless thing, and yet he felt...off. Seeing Jerry being kissed, well, he'd beheld that sight enough times. But seeing Jerry, his best and oldest friend, being kissed by a man. It set George's emotions on fire in ways he couldn't even understand.

The sound of the door clicking open caused George to flinch, and he shot his gaze over in time to see Jerry look down to where he was sitting. He looked amused, and shook his head before he spoke.

"It's safe to come in now, Kramer and I were just having a disagreement," the comedian assured his friend. George swallowed, mouth dry, and stood.

"Looked more like a lovers quarrel from where I was standing," he practically snapped, "...tongue deep in Kramer's mouth, imagine!"

Jerry snorted, allowing George to walk past him into the apartment, "he didn't use tongue."

Kramer looked up from the bag of chips he'd gotten into as the shorter man entered the room, "what? When I kissed you?"

Nodding, Jerry rolled his eyes and smirked, "you seem to have upset George."

But despite the lighthearted air of the comedian's attitude, both George and Kramer seemed to feel something a bit more serious. The balding man swallowed again and glanced at the floor, fidgeting uncharacteristically. Kramer's eyes locked onto him, and his brow knitted as if he were thinking very deeply.

"Hey George? George!" The sound of Jerry addressing the shorter man tore him from his brooding and he looked up in confusion. The comedian sighed and asked his question again, "did you need something? You look awful."

Blunt and straight to the point, as always. That was something that George had always loved about their friendship, that there was never any unnecessary beating around the bush.

"Well," the shorter man shifted his weight on his feet, deciding to bury the wildfire of emotions until he could deal with them, "I came to say that...Elaine's friend is a lousy, cheating masseuse who should be fired from a canon!"

He went into detail about his horrible experience, allowing his rage over his bill to prevent his strange, inexplicable feelings to crop back up. But all the time that George spoke, he didn't notice that Kramer had his eyes trained on him. He didn't notice that his best friend's neighbor was studying his every move. And he definitely didn't notice when the unnaturally quiet Kramer got up and walked out only a minute before he himself went to leave.

"Okay, I'll see ya tomorrow," George said as he exited the apartment, closing the door behind him. Taking a moment to zip up his jacket, the short man prepared to turn and leave when he felt his body being yanked into the opposite door from whence he'd come.

George clawed at the hand over his mouth, struggling to get away from his captor. He was dragged into the apartment across the hall, and the door was locked tightly. The lights came on.

Kramer slowly stepped back, allowing George to move and breath. The short man wiped his forehead, which had perspired from the struggle.

"What the hell was that, Kramer?!" He sputtered, shuddering. The taller man bit his lip, eyes wide and focused. George pulled his shirt down, as it had gotten yanked up uncomfortably during the struggle. Then, he looked up. George jumped as he met the gaze of Kramer, who now stood only about a foot away from the shorter man. His brown eyes gazed down at the other, seeming thoughtful and provoked in a way that George had never seen them. "O...okay, you're kinda freakin' me out now..."

"Sorry, sorry..." Kramer apologized quietly, not looking away or moving to give his guest more room. George stood still as well, though mostly because he was a bit frightened of what the unpredictable man would do.

"So uh..." The shorter man began awkwardly, "why, exactly, did you just kidnap me...?"

Kramer licked his lips slowly in a way that made George's skin crawl. He recognized the look in the man's eyes, but he couldn't recall what it was.

'Not a good sign,' the shorter man thought.

"I thought something was bothering you. I wanted to...see if I could help." Kramer's voice was now low and somewhat husky, which made George even more uncomfortable.

"No, no, I'm fine. So uh, if I could just—" the shorter man turned to make his escape but was stopped by a surprisingly strong arm.

"Please, stay. I...enjoy company."

Swallowing hard yet again, George agreed. He sat slowly onto Kramer's disheveled couch, wincing as he imagined all the things that the strange man could have done on the messy cushions.

"Can I get you something? Wine?"

George looked over with an uncomfortable expression, eyes narrow and lip ever-so-slightly curled. He started for a moment at the suspiciously eager Kramer and then nodded shortly. "Sure. Whatever."

The taller man scurried into his kitchen nook and checked in all of his cabinets before pulling out a tall bottle. He held it up so George could see, grinning and quirking his eyebrows. The shorter man scowled, body quivering yet again as things got even stranger.

"Here y'are, Georgie," Kramer announced, placing a (slightly smudged) wineglass into his friend's hand. George gave a flat smile and looked down at the beverage, grimacing before taking a very slow and tentative sip. It tasted alright, so he relaxed. "So," the shorter man looked up as his friend's neighbor spoke again, "let's get down to what's troubling you."

George sighed and shrugged impatiently, "I don't know, you heard it while we were at Jerry's! That stingy masseuse cheated me out of my m—"

"No, no, no, no!" Kramer cut the other man off hastily, shaking his head, "there's something else!" He moved closer on the couch, close enough that George could fully detect his hot breath on his neck. Yes, something very strange and uncomfortable was happening, and the shorter man's body was trembling uncontrollably.

"What, then?" George snapped, turning to face Kramer all at once as his patience expired. "You tell me, you're the one who dragged me in here! I would truly love to know what you think is wrong with me!"

Kramer blinked a couple times, taken aback by the outburst, but the surprise was quickly overtaken by a sly smile and a slow sip of wine. The taller man chuckled quietly and gave George a look that made his face flush, but neither said anything for a solid minute.

"You're having conflictions." Kramer stated it so concisely that it made George twitch.

"What?" The shorter man asked, venom siphoned from his tone.

"Conflictions," Kramer repeated casually, raising his eyebrows. He took another sip of his drink and George followed suit, certain that he wouldn't like where this was going. "About Jerry."

The shorter man slammed his glass onto the coffee table, jaw tight. His eyes were narrow in obvious anxiety, but he feigned confusion, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Kramer smirked and shrugged, "it's nothing new, you've done it before."

"Done what?" George shifted closer to the other man in what he hoped was a threatening way, "Quit screwing with me Kramer."

Something about what he'd said seemed to excite the other, but he continued eliciting only small little bits of information.

"I mean, you did date that one girl," Kramer commented, leaning forwards so that he was eye level with George.

"I've dated many girls," the shorter man said, a bit too quickly.

"There, you've proven my point," Kramer sighed, "overcompensation."

"Damn it, Kramer, just tell me what you're going on about!" George finally lost his cool, gritting his teeth and snarling his words.

"You're in love with Jerry."

The words were the straw that broke the camels back, sending every emotion that he had barricaded down in his subconscious spiraling back into play. Not just the ones from an hour before, when he'd caught sight of his best friend kissing another man (which he now recognized as unabated jealously), but emotions stored from many, many years of friendship. Things he'd learned to repress, to ignore.

Yes, Kramer was right.

And hearing it out loud, hearing those words, it made something completely change within George. He knew, now that he'd heard and recognized those words, he'd never be able to ignore his feelings again.

A large hand came down on George's hunched back, and the short man came back to reality. He realized that he'd all-but curled up into a fetal position on Kramer's couch, and his eyes burned as if he hadn't blinked for a while.

"It's alright, George. This is why I stopped you," Kramer spoke in a comforting tone, taking the last sip of his wine and placing it next to George's on the coffee table. "You need someone to talk to about all this, and I understand better than anyone."

The words confused George, and he shot his acquaintance a look, "what...what do you mean?"

Kramer grinned, leaning back on the couch with his legs crossed and putting his arms behind his head. His eyes glinted as they studied George's face.

"I'm just sayin', I've...well..." He scratched his chin, "I've...experimented."

George took a second to let the words sink in, "you mean..." he began softly, not meeting the other man's eyes, "you...have had sex...with other...men...?"

Kramer's grin stretched wider and George felt sick. He now recognized the looks that he'd been given since first arriving in his friend's neighbors house.

"I, wow, I really need to get goin—" George attempted to stand, but was yanked back down by the same strong arm. He turned, shooting Kramer a pleading look, but the other man already had a steadfast expression of determination.

"George. You can lie to me, but you can't lie to yourself."

The short man bit his lip, looking down at the large, firm hand wrapped around his wrist. The strength behind it, he felt himself noticing, was mesmerizing. To be gripped so powerfully, it sent a chill running down his spine.

"Kramer I have to go," George murmured with far less conviction. This time, the taller man noticed that his guest was cracking, and slowly began to pull him closer.

Time was going in slow motion, George's eyes were transfixed on Kramer's brown ones, and he felt his body moving with the pull. Suddenly, without the short man even realizing he'd moved, George was sitting directly on his acquaintance's lap. The balding man inhaled sharply, looking down at his own two legs straddling around the familiar long, thin pants of Cosmo Kramer.

'This is wrong,' George thought furiously, 'this is Kramer! I can't do this with Kramer!' But unfortunately, a combination of curiosity and submission kept him right where he was. George felt his cheeks growing hotter by the second, and refused to look back up. He felt self conscious, much like he frequently did while sleeping with women. What if he was too heavy and Kramer couldn't support him? What if he wasn't attractive enough? These concerns and many others echoed through George's head like clockwork, but ceased immediately as the same strong, masculine hand touched his chin.

"Look at me, George! Come on, I'm not gonna do anything that you don't want..."

George felt like a teenage girl in the passenger seat of her boyfriends truck. He knew that sex was on the others mind—he could almost smell it! But Kramer seemed genuinely mellow, so he was able to push down his apprehension.

"Kramer, I'm not gay. I'm not attracted to men." George spoke firmly, but he knew that his eyes betrayed his doubt.

The curly-haired man shook his head slightly, "it's okay George, tonight is all about exploring, alright?" Reaching over, Kramer grabbed George's wine glass and moved it to the other man's lips. "Take a few more sips, you just need to relax and give it a shot."

George consented, though mostly because he was getting too dizzy to protest. Seconds later, the entire glass was empty and George's head was spinning.

"Kramer, I really feel like this is a bad idea," George muttered, feeling his glasses being removed from his face. Vision compromised, the shorter man could only make out the shape of his acquaintance's face as it moved in close to his.

Without warning, hot, soft pressure was pressed against George's lips. He was being kissed, and it didn't feel different from any he'd had before. Without thinking, the shorter man leaned into the contact, only realizing the extent of what was happening when his cheek accidentally brushed against a patch of stubble. George pulled back, gasping.

"Oh my God..." George breathed, trembling harder than ever before. He felt a large hand rake through the small amount of hair on the back of his head, and let out an unconscious moan. "Damn it," he cursed as he stopped himself from emitting anymore embarrassing sounds.

Kramer, on the other hand, seemed to adore the noise, and lifted his other hand towards the hem of George's shirt. Their torso's were close now, practically touching, and their faces mere inches apart. Kramer tugged up on the gray polo, keeping his eyes locked onto George's half-lidded one's. Minutes later, the shorter man sat straddling his best friend's neighbor wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue boxer-briefs.

"Kramer," George whispered shakily, "what...what are you going to do...?"

Unlike before, George's voice was not resolutely opposed. He seemed nervous, even frightened, but it was evident that he wasn't going to fight whatever happened.

The blurry sight of a pink tongue running along the taller man's lips made George swallow hard, and he barely had time to think before he was pulled in for another long kiss. This time, Kramer began to work on his own shirt, pulling it up while moving his mouth against his acquaintance's.

George's eyes unintentionally gazed down at the curly-haired man's shirtless body. True, he had seen it many times before, but before then he had never really allowed himself to absorb the sight. Kramer wasn't toned, but he didn't have much excess fat like George knew he had. The shorter man noticed that the other's nipples were erect, and felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. He wanted to be repulsed, and in certain, subconscious ways, he was, but the familiar, hot feeling in his pants took away all the fight in him.

"Oh God," George grunted, face paleing as he truly caught a glimpse of his lower regions. Kramer's tent was fairly obvious, and it had been for a while, even through his pants. Whereas George, clad in nothing but underwear, was beginning to see a distinct bulge rising on his own side. Unfortunately, Kramer noticed this as well, and grinned triumphantly.

"Patience, George!" He chuckled huskily, "we'll get there."

George felt humiliated, mortified, powerless, but most of all, George felt horny. As Kramer began to unzip his own pants, it took every ounce of will in George's body not to touch himself. As he watched the taller man pull out his length from the tight confines of his pants, George's heart began to race even faster. And as Kramer reached down and grabbed the quickly growing bulge in the front of his acquaintance's crotch, the shorter man could not repress a long, low moan.

Suddenly and with enough spontaneity to cause both men to jolt, a knock came on Kramers door.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." George snatched his clothes from the floor, ignoring the pressing, almost painful, throbbing in his nether regions. He fled to the other room, certain that his round face was entirely red, and pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible. There, the short man stood still for a few moments, trying to slow his heart and, well, calm his hormones.

The knock came again, and George heard Kramer groan, "coming, coming!" The voice said.

Please tell me he's going to put clothes on before answering the door...George prayed, and was thankful when he heard the sound of rustling fabric. Moments later, the sound of the door opening greeted his ears, and he listened closely, terrified of being caught.

"Hey Kramer, did you take my spaghetti strainer?"

It was Jerry.


	2. Chapter 2

**CAUTION: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD**

* * *

There he stood, barely even conscious of his own being as his mind and heart twirled in an indescribable dance of emotion. He listened closely, not breathing, as the voices of his apparent love-interest and the man he had just been seconds away from intimacy with conversed like normal merely feet away from him. The front door clicked shut as Jerry fully entered, and George heard Kramer's voice begin to answer the question he had been posed.

"Yeah! I needed it when I went fishing last weekend," the curly-haired man responded nonchalantly. George grimaced at the implications of the statement, but from the inflection of Jerry's voice, he was all-too accustomed to the antics of his neighbor.

"Fine, but can I have it back?" He requested, the slightest tinge of impatience showing through his easy-going voice.

Kramer chuckled, "Yeah, sure thing. It's in my tub, I'll go grab it."

George heard footsteps make their way towards the door he stood beside, and suddenly was brought back to full consciousness. He turned stiffly as Kramer entered the room, jaw tight and cheeks (unfortunately) still red. He made eye contact, trying to visually convey his mixed-emotions to the other man, but was met with an oblivious wink and grin from the taller man.

Luckily, Kramer didn't say anything as he walked by, and was completely casual as he grabbed the spaghetti strainer from his bathroom and returned to give it back to Jerry. George decided not to even consider what ungodly actions the cooking utensil was used for by the other man, and instead held his breath as he waited for Jerry to leave.

"Thanks," the comedian said quickly.

"No problem, buddy," Kramer bantered, his grin audible in his voice, "what do you need it for so badly tonight, by the way?"

"Just a last-minute date with a girl I met a few weeks ago," he answered smoothly, unaware that his words were causing emotional turmoil only a few feet away. The sound of his footsteps as he walked to the door thumped in time with George's descent to the floor. "See you later," Jerry called out, and the door clicked shut. There was silence for a few seconds, and George simply sat against the wall, torn in countless different ways.

"Hey, George…" Kramer opened the door, peering in with caution at his friend. The shorter man didn't look up, but began to chew at his lip. The curly-haired man stepped into the room, towering over the other with his arms by his sides. He bore an expression of sympathy—a rare look for him—and George felt surprised that he wasn't acting like his typical self and ranting on about something or other. They were silent for a minute, and then George spoke.

"Well…if I had any doubts before, they're gone now…" he sighed, looking up and resting his head on the wall.

Kramer gave a half-smile, "about loving Jerry or your sexuality?"

George couldn't hold back a laugh, "I'd say _both_."

The taller man laughed as well, and reached his hand down to help his friend up. George tottered to his feet, rubbing at his stinging eyes beneath his glasses, and sighed. The two moved back into the living room, though they now sat at opposite ends of the couch. Awkward silence spanned, though quite understandably in this case, as neither man wanted to speak first. Neither knew what to say, or what the other was thinking. George noticed the empty wine glasses sitting on the coffee table and sighed, breaking the silence. In once swift motion, he stood up and picked up both his and the taller man's glass.

"Refill?" He asked, and Kramer grinned.

* * *

Night was nearly upon him, but George was still just wandering around aimlessly. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he wished for the hundredth time that he was tired. If he was tired, he could go home and sleep. Sleeping was the only thing that really made sense to him anymore, despite the fact that his dreams created nothing but pain.

"God, I'm an angsty mess," George spoke under his breath, shaking his head. It _was_ hard, though. He was getting a grip on his sexuality, something that he'd never even considered prior to four months ago. Not to mention he was coming to terms with feelings for his best friend, who just so happened to be one of George's _only_ friends. In fact, Jerry really was the only person George would have ever felt comfortable telling all of these things to. Even though…somebody else had found out first. George's face paled and his pace picked up.

He didn't know why he was having so much trouble blocking it out of his head; didn't know why he continued to think back on it despite the anguish it caused. It had been such a confusing span of time, those first three months after discovering his newfound feelings. And in the end…

George violently turned and began to speed walk to the road, jaw tense and gaze steadfast on the ground ahead of him. He had to block it out, he had to move on. He couldn't keep dwelling on past mistakes, on past misjudgments. The balding man briefly considered hailing a cab, but decided against it. His apartment wasn't far, and he still wasn't tired.

The sky was dark now, and street lamps illuminated the sidewalk in halos of light that began to bleed together as George hastily passed them by. There were very few people on the sidewalk with him that night, and even fewer cars. George remembered that it was a Sunday—he had work the next day. The thought perturbed a grimace on his face, and he picked up his pace even more.

Finally arriving home, George threw open the door and dropped his coat onto the bench next to him. He rubbed at his head, and looked around. It was silent, empty. The short man walked lowly to his room, and slipped out of his clothes as slowly as possible. He avoided looking in the mirror, not in the mood to see the emotions that he now saw on his own face every second of every day. Instead, he took a shower.

The warm water poured onto George's head, and he closed his eyes. It felt nice after being outside in the cold for at least four hours, and he finally felt his body relax.

Ten minutes passed, and George finally grabbed the soap and began to wash off. He rubbed his arms, his chest and his stomach, noticing that it had gotten even smaller. He hadn't meant to lose weight, but with all the walking he'd done lately, it had just kind of happened. Rinsing the soap away, the short man stepped out of the shower and dried off before proceeding to his bedroom.

George crawled under his covers, staring at the dark ceiling in complete silence. He unconsciously rolled onto his left side and gazed at the empty section of his bed.

Sleep, he could already tell, was not something that he would be experiencing any time soon.

* * *

The sound of a ragged moan filled the apartment as the shorter of the two men, drenched in sweat, came all over the other's chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands clenched into the bare shoulders of the man below him. He rocked forwards, riding out his climax, and then collapsed onto the other's chest.

"Lay back, Georgie," the gruff voice of Kramer instructed, and George obeyed. He fell back onto the couch, arms over his head and expression completely submissive. Kramer pulled out and began to quickly rub at his swollen manhood. His face was red and he bit at his lip, and after just a few seconds he, too, came in three spurts over George's stomach.

Both men were now sticky and exhausted, and they laid back on the couch in Kramer's apartment for a few moments in comfortable silence.

It had been three weeks since the day that George had come to terms with his feelings, and this was the ninth time that he'd had sex with Kramer. The thought, which at first had mortified the shorter man, was now commonplace amongst his frenzied thoughts of Jerry and his true self. Of course, the first time (and even the second and third…) had been horribly awkward, and George had fought against his urges as much as he could. Yet, it was to no avail.

George felt something touch his hand, and blinked in surprise. He glanced down to see Kramer's fingers just barely brushing his own. He peered up at the other, but the taller man's eyes were closed as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. Maybe it was just an accident. George slowly moved his hand in towards his body, away from the other's. It was then that he felt the hand again, moved barely even three centimeters, but still brushing against his own.

At that moment, George sat up.

"I'm going to head home," he said quickly, heading into Kramer's bathroom to use his shower before he left. He heard movement behind him, and turned just as Kramer grabbed him by the hand. The taller man looked down at him, a troubled look in his eyes.

"You don't have to go!" he argued, "there's nothing stopping you from staying longer."

George rolled his eyes, barely registering that they were both completely naked and covered in semen. "Kramer, it's late. If I stayed any longer, I'd have to spend the night!" No response came, and it dawned on George that _spending the night_ might have been exactly what the taller man wanted. His face heated up slightly, but he quickly shook his head. "I-I can't stay! It wouldn't…feel right!"

Kramer bit his cheek, "and why not? We've 'slept' together plenty of times."

George turned to fully face the other, crossing his arms over his bare chest, "Kramer…you do realize…that all…all of that…" he struggled to phrase his sentence, eyes darting around the room (anywhere but Kramer's face) as he spoke. "What I'm trying to say is, it didn't _mean_ anything…"

Kramer looked straight into the shorter man's face, brows knit in a serious expression. "I know that, George! I was the one who told you that you were in love with Jerry, remember?"

George sighed and nodded, looking off to the side, "Yes, exactly…and, well…thats the exact _reason_ that I wouldn't feel right about staying the night."

Kramer nodded slowly, looking deflated. He took a step back, scratching his neck. George sighed again, shaking his head slowly.

"Look, if you want to stop… _this_ …." the shorter man paused, "I get it. We probably shouldn't have gotten so involved in the first place." Kramer shrugged, frowning. It was rare that the tall man was so nonvocal, and George couldn't stop the gnawing thought that he was causing the other man a lot of stress.

George headed into the bathroom without another word, leaving his friend (or friend-with-benefits?) in the den. He showered off quickly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.

Out in the living room, George found his clothes on the coffee table. He pulled them on hastily, and glanced around in search of Kramer. The taller man had seemingly disappeared. George wondered if he should seek him out, or just leave. Luckily, he didn't have to make the decision, as the curly-haired man came out of his bedroom with something in his hand. His face betrayed nothing as he held out his hand to the shorter man.

"What's this?" George asked impatiently, but his expression became daunted as he realized that Kramer was handing him a key. "Is this…?"

Kramer nodded, "It's a key to my house," he grinned, but George noticed some mixed emotions behind his eyes, "I had it made a couple days ago, in case you ever wanted to just show up."

George didn't know what to say. He took the key and put it into his pocket with a short nod. "Thanks," he muttered, and turned to leave.

Mind spinning, George forgot to take precaution before leaving Kramer's apartment. He walked out of the front door, and almost ran straight into his best friend.

Jerry was leaving his own place, and his back was turned when George came out. The shorter man's eyes bugged out and his entire body froze. He didn't know whether to run back inside or face the music, but Jerry turned before he could react. The brunet looked surprised to see George, and then very confused.

"Hey!…uh…" he glanced right past his friend's face, "why were you at Kramer's place?"

George had no answer, and he was certain that Jerry could see the panic on his face. His mind reeled as he desperately looked for an excuse, but Jerry held up his hand before he could say a single word.

"Y'know what? I don't wanna know. Kramer's apartment is a land that I'm happy to not have to venture into more than necessary." The comedian grinned, and George forced a flicker of a smile. Turning and heading down the hall, Jerry bid adieu to his friend. "I gotta go grab a few things before the store closes, but I'll see you later George!"

George gave a short wave to return the sentiment, and watched his best friend as he made his way down to the end of the hall. Once he was on the elevator and out of earshot, the balding man let out a whooshing sigh and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. He couldn't believe how close of a call that had been, and realized more clearly than ever that what he was doing with Kramer needed to stop. Even if he _did_ have an opportunity to come out to Jerry, how would he ever be able to explain why the hell he was fucking his _neighbor_?

George reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that Kramer had just given to him. He studied it for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek and shaking his head ever so slightly. Finally, George leaned down and, in one swift motion, slid the key under the door of Kramer's apartment. Standing back up, George felt a strange sensation spread through his stomach, but turned and hurried away before he could give it a second thought. He looked straight ahead and strode with a tight jaw, hurrying to get as far away as possible.

* * *

 **Okay!**

 **So...uh...**

 **Yeah, this was never actually going to get a second chapter to be honest. I don't know why I suddenly got inspiration for this of all things, but here it is! I've had to move to rating up to M (and if I make a third chapter [no promises]), I might even include a full-on sex scene or something so...just be warned ;).**

 **Im surprised people read this, but hey! It's a really cool thing that this story got a little bit of attention :) I appreciate the people who read and especially those who decided to review it! Thanks so much!**

 **As you can now see, at this point in the story, there might be a hint of a love-triangle forming~ quite the drama isn't it?**

 **Also, if I continue, Elaine will more than likely make an appearance!**


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